


Everything's For You

by innerglow



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Prompt Fill, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-21
Updated: 2013-12-21
Packaged: 2018-01-05 10:38:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1092903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/innerglow/pseuds/innerglow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><b>Prompt:</b> <i>“Dean says time is different in hell, but what if it’s not? What if Dean really spent 40 years in hell before Cas put him back to 2008? Write what 40 years without Dean may have looked like for Sam.”</i></p><p>When Dean comes back from hell, he doesn't know what he was expecting.  But this, this was not even in the picture.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Everything's For You

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a fic challenge on tumblr. Hosted by [Chappedassmonkey](http://chappedassmonkey.tumblr.com). Official posting can be seen [here](http://chappedassmonkey.tumblr.com/post/69502824502/everythings-for-you).
> 
> Unbeta'd. All mistakes are my own.

When Dean comes back from hell, he doesn't know what he was expecting.  But this, this was not even in the picture.

Bobby's house is eerily empty and there's an unsettling layer of dust on everything.  As though, nothing has been touched in years.  Dean looks around the house and can't help calling out for Bobby. And even though he calls, the deafening silence that returns to him, makes his insides stir nervously.

He doesn’t find a soul inside the house, so he wanders out into the salvage yard.  It looks just like the last time he saw it, which gives him some comfort.  But that is quickly ripped away when he sees baby.  She’s sitting around the back of the house and there’s a layer of dirt on her that makes him curse under this breath.

“Baby, look at you--” Dean whispers, trailing his fingers along the hood. He lifts his fingers and they are blackened.  The would-be-rage in his chest simmers as a wave of concern comes back to him.

For the first time since he dug himself out of the ground, he thinks about how much time has passed since he went to hell.  And just at the thought of the word, images come to his mind that make bile rise into his throat and his knees shake. He braces himself against the impala and squeezes his eyes shut.  A deep breath escapes his lungs as he tries to push back the echoes of his time down below.

Dean finds one of his extra cellphones in the glove box of the impala.  It doesn’t power on and a dread fills his stomach, because Sammy knew to keep these always charged. He digs through the glove box once again and by some miracle he finds an extra battery.  Slipping it into the back of the phone, Dean whispers a prayer for it to work.  And he laughs a little when it finally powers on, because it soothes the sea of wrongness in chest.

The ease doesn’t last as long as Dean would have liked it to, because the date on the screen cannot possibly be correct.

_September 18th, 2048_

Dean blinks at the screen and feels bile rise again like a tornado up the back of his throat.  It felt like forty years downstairs, but he always imagined that time worked different down there.  It felt like it moved slower, like every second was an eternity suspended in time.  But forty years was actually forty fucking years and the reality of that is all the extra coaxing he needs.  He empties everything he hasn’t eaten onto the ground and feels his heart race wildly in his chest.

After a few minutes he finds himself resting his forehead against the cool metal of the impala.  He concentrates on his breathing as he tries to think.  And the only thing that keeps coming back to him is a name.

And that name is, Sam.  

Questions skitter across his mind at lightening speed.   The when, how, and why’s all cross-firing and getting mixed together; it’s undecodable.  But one thought sticks out and it is the one he can’t bare to think about.

Is he still alive?

Dean does the first thing that makes sense, he calls Sam.  The ring reverberating through the speaker against his ear feels excruciating as it repeats and repeats unanswered.  And right at the last second it kicks over to a voicemail message.  A voice sounds, but it doesn’t belong to Sam.

‘Hey this is Joey, if you’re getting this, that must mean I’m busy--you know what to do.’

“Shit,” Dean curses and slams the cellphone shut.  He cards his fingers through his hair and he paces a few steps beside the impala, trying to decide his next move.

Dean opens the car door and looks for anything that Sam may have left behind.  Sam would have left him something, some type of clue as to where to go from here--at least that’s what Dean is counting on.  He tears through the glove box once again but doesn’t find anything useful.

He sighs and then swipes his hands under the front seats, but grunts angrily when his hands come up empty again and again.  He moves to the back seat and scans the entirety of it and feels an ebb of panic start to crawl up the back of his spine as he sees nothing.

“C’mon, Sammy.” He says shakily as he exits the car and stumbles around to the back of the car.

He should have checked here first he thinks as he sticks the key into the trunk and twists.  Once it’s opened he takes in the old inventory that he knows like the back of his hand.  And as he scans over it briefly, something catches his eye.  It’s an old leather bound journal with a note on the front that reads, ‘Dean’ and it looks like an oasis in the middle of the desert.

Dean picks it up and can’t help but think how similar it is to the one that their Dad had kept.  It is heavy and it is worn with time, so much time.  Dean presses his palm against it and doesn’t know if he truly wants to find out what is inside it.  He’s half sure that whatever it is, it won’t give him the peace that he is looking for.  But this is all he has to go on and whether he wants to or not, he has to read it.

Sitting back behind the wheel of the impala, Dean traces the paper with his name on it and smiles because it is Sam’s handwriting.  He stares at it for a few minutes before he sighs and undoes the flap.  Dean opens the journal and finds an envelope laying on top with his name scribbled yet again.  His heart sinks as he picks it up and feels how thick the paper is inside of it.  The envelope isn’t sealed shut, just tucked, in true Sam fashion.  This little action lights a small smile on Dean’s lips, but it quickly dissolves as he unfolds the letter and stares at the scribbled words.

And this is what it reads:

>   _Dean-_  
> 
> _If these pages ever come to be read by your eyes, it must mean two things.  One, being that somehow unbeknownst to me, you managed to get yourself top side again.  And secondly, that I am no longer here to see that day come to pass.  And I can’t tell you how sorry I am to not be there, but like all things in my life--I’ve made peace with it._  
> 
> _I don’t know what you’re thinking right now, Dean.  But let me tell you a few things that I thought you should know.  I couldn’t leave this earth without putting these words somewhere; somewhere that was outside of my own chest.  And if I’m being honest here Dean, these words have always belonged to you anyway._  
> 
> _I love you, Dean._  
> 
> _I always have.  And it wasn’t until the day your deal was due and I saw the life drain from your eyes, that I knew it was more than that.  I just never put words to it until then and I was too late, Dean.  It was too late.  And I wish more than anything you could’ve heard me say it just once, but I can only hope these words here will get through to you._
> 
> _I am in love with you, Dean.  And I always have been._  
> 
> _The feeling was always there, I just never knew it had a name, because it just came so naturally.  It’s all I ever knew. And maybe you knew, too, Dean.  Or maybe you haven’t put words to it, to that feeling in your chest, not yet.  But I know it mirrors my own; I’ve seen it reflected in your eyes a thousand and one times._  
> 
> _And Dean, I tried to get you out.  I spent 10 years going out of my mind without you; did anything I could think of to get you back--back here to me, where you belong. I’m not proud of the things I did during that time, but I was maddened by the loss of you.   I almost got myself killed on more than one occasion and on one, it almost did kill me.  That was my ‘wake up call’._
> 
> _I had a good heart to heart with myself and resigned to the fact that I was not getting you back.  And even though the thought of you…..down there….sickened me, I knew I couldn’t let your death have been in vain.  I had to think about what you would want for me, Dean.  I had to make something out of what you had given me._  
> 
> _So, I chose to devote these last 25 years to you, Dean.  To doing everything I know you’d want me to do.  And even though I struggled with that resolve at times, I know this is what you’d have wanted for me.  So, I made chasing my dreams a sort of a ‘living’ love letter to you._  
> 
> _I became a teacher, Dean.  A history teacher, to be exact.  And I worked my way up into a position at Stanford, where I taught for 15 years.  Bobby told me you would have been so proud of me and I had always hoped you would be._  
> 
> _I bought a house and learned to cook a decent meal.  I got that dog I always wanted--alright, I got a few. I  went and toured Europe and made a special trip to Hawaii, just for you.  I mowed my own lawn and invited Bobby over for weekend barbecues.  And I did it all, every single thing, for you Dean._  
> 
> _You died for me._  
> 
> _And I have lived for you._  
> 
> _I love you, Dean. And I will take that love with me, wherever I may go--until we meet again._  
> 
> _And until then, find me drifting on the sweet breeze against your cheek, kissing you like I have dreamt of so many nights.  And if you listen carefully, you’ll hear my voice whispering all the ways in which I have loved you._  
> 
> _Yours Always,_
> 
>   _-Sammy_

 

PS- The key in this envelope goes to the address in the back of my journal. Consider it my gift to you. 

 ******  

Dean arrives at the address in the back of Sam’s journal a day and a half later.  It’s to a house off the beaten trail, in the middle of Lawrence, KS.  And as he pulls up the long drive, it’s not the house that steals his heart away--it’s what is surrounding it. 

He trips over his own feet as he walks around the back of the house and let’s everything come into full view.  Before him is a seemingly endless field of sunflowers, each one raising their heads to the setting sun. And if he wasn’t so sure he was on earth, he’d think this was heaven.  It’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. 

And on the edge of the field, a cross sticks up from the ground.  It’s snowy white and recent looking and everything in his body knows exactly who lies beneath it. 

 _Sammy._  

Kneeling down before it, he notices the necklace Sammy had given him when they were kids, hanging from it.  A choked sob escapes his lips as he lifts it from the cross with shaky fingers.  He looks at it and then carefully slips the black cord over his head, letting the amulet come to rest on his chest once again. 

He feels hot tears streak his face as he leans forward and presses a kiss to the cross. 

“I love you too, Sammy.” He whispers against the wood of the cross and then sits back on his heels to look at the field before him. 

And as though Sam can see him, he places his hand over the amulet against his chest and says into the breeze, “Thank you, Sammy.”

 

**FIN**

  
  
  
  
  


 

 


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